


in my blood

by sharkfish



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Hospitals, M/M, Near Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-20 06:52:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16131944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkfish/pseuds/sharkfish
Summary: “Is he going to die?”The doctor doesn’t hesitate. Probably she’s practiced this a lot. “His injuries are severe, and we may not know the full extent yet. But it’s not time to give up.”





	in my blood

**Author's Note:**

> *****NO ONE ACTUALLY DIES I SWEAR*****
> 
> thanks to [jemariel](http://jemariel.tumblr.com) for the beta

Waiting for Charlie to pick up the phone, Dean has a distinct thought, clear as the Caribbean:  _ I’m going to be a widower at twenty-eight.  _

“Cas was in an accident, he’s at St. —” 

“Oh my god, is he ok?!” 

Dean does not say,  _ He’s going to die.  _ “I don’t know yet. But can you —” 

“I’m on my way. St. David’s?” 

Dean wasn’t crying, but now it’s surging up his throat, and he swallows thickly. “Yeah. I gotta go.” 

“Love you. I’ll see you soon.” 

 

“My husband,” Dean says. His hands are shaking. “Cas — Castiel. Winchester.” 

“I’ll let the doctor know you’re here,” the woman behind the desk says with a gentle smile, and then she passes over a clipboard of paperwork. 

Dean’s handwriting is a mess as he starts filling it out.  _ Name. Address. Social security number. Medical history. Medications.  _ Dean can’t remember the dosages and hates himself for never considering he might need to know. 

The doctor talks to Dean in a quiet corner. “Bicycle accident,” she says, and then she says, “torn aorta” and “plates and sixteen pins” and “medically induced coma” and “next surgery.” 

Dean clenches his fists. “Is he going to die?” 

The doctor doesn’t hesitate. Probably she’s practiced this a lot. “His injuries are severe, and we may not know the full extent yet. But it’s not time to give up.” 

“When can I see him?” 

“We need to repair the damage to his heart,” the doctor says, and then she says “open heart surgery” and everything goes fuzzy again. 

Dean didn’t hear her approach, but he knows Charlie’s hugs as well as he knows Cas’s, and she wraps her arms around him from behind and presses her face into his shoulder. Dean has never been so grateful for her. 

“It could take upwards of six hours,” the doctor continues. 

“Jesus,” Charlie says. 

“Ok,” Dean says. “But you’re — someone’s going to tell me how he is. Right? You have to —” 

“Yes, Mr. Winchester. We’ll check in periodically.” She reaches out to shake Dean’s hand again. “Talk to you soon.” 

Dean and Charlie collapse into uncomfortable waiting room chairs at the same time. Charlie holds one of Dean’s hands in both of hers. “What happened?” 

“Riding his goddamn bike,” Dean says. “Someone hit him.” 

“God, I’m so sorry. Is he going to be ok?” 

Dean doesn’t look at her. “He could — he might…” 

Charlie’s hands squeeze tighter. “It’ll be ok,” she says. “He’s pretty tough.” 

 

By the time a doctor walks out, Dean’s pacing, five steps back and five steps forward, hospital cafeteria coffee like sludge in his stomach. “It’s going well,” the doctor says, and then he goes back to work. 

 

Charlie eats and Dean does not. Dean doesn’t have anything to say, but Charlie wanders into a long tangent about feminism in Star Trek, and the familiarity of her voice and arguments is soothing the way it’s been Dean’s whole life, all through Dean’s fear of his father and shame for liking men and freakout during his and Cas’s first fight (and, to some extent, every one after that) and the jittery elation when Cas asked Dean to be his husband. 

 

It feels like Dean’s been awake and afraid his entire life by the time he’s told the surgery was successful, and then it feels like he’s been in hell for the last forty years in the liminal space between that and when they actually usher him into Cas’s room in the ICU. 

He’d imagined plenty what Cas would look like when he finally got to see him, and he thought he was prepared for tubes and IVs and bandages, but he wasn’t prepared for the way his world would stop and then spin when he actually sees it. Cas is so pale outside the bruises, he could be dead already. 

“Cas,” Dean whispers, and cries. 

Cas is the reason Dean realized he wasn’t straight. He and Cas and Charlie were inseparable, and Charlie’s gorgeous, but Dean never  _ wanted  _ with her the way he started wanting with Cas. It took a really long time before he was ok with saying out loud that he’s queer, and it took a long time thinking Cas was way out of his league, but Dean asked Cas out first. 

The terror then was that he could be destroying his relationship with his best friend. The terror now is that his best friend might not exist at all anymore. 

There’s a small spot of unbruised skin on Cas’s jaw, and Dean brushes his lips against it. “I love you,” Dean says. “You fucking better come home with me.You know I’m not going to clean Weetzie’s litter box.” 

Dean wishes for Cas to open his eyes, just long enough to scowl. 

 

Even after they wake Cas up, he’s drugged enough to talk about demons and lizard people and bees, and he keeps trying to put the blood pressure monitor on his nose. Dean stays in an uncomfortable recliner in Cas’s hospital room and it seems like he’s had this pain in his neck and back for his whole life, but it’s worth it every time he gets to see the blue between Cas’s half-lidded eyes, hear him say “Abyzou” and “Azazel,” hear him say “Dean” and “twenty thousand species.” 

 

There are more surgeries. Dean fills out FMLA paperwork for both of them, and Charlie takes Weetzie to her house because Dean’s practically living in the hospital. 

One day Cas smiles, and Dean has never known this kind of relief, not even when his dad died. The morphine dosage goes down, and Cas is lucid sometimes, enough to admonish Dean for not taking care of himself. The last time Dean really looked in a mirror, he was too thin, the darkest shadows under his eyes. 

“Ok, ok,” Dean says, when Cas harasses him to go get a burger. When Dean comes back — he’s never eaten so fast in his life — he tells Cas that he’s still sober. Despite the fear over the last month, Dean hasn’t thought about drinking at all. 

Cas squeezes Dean’s hand and says, “I’m proud of you.” 

 

Dean puts up a wheelchair ramp leading to their front porch. It doesn’t really matter because by the time Cas can even think about going outside, he’s using a cane. Dean sleeps on the floor next to their bed, because he can’t leave Cas but is afraid to hurt him, too. All of their kisses are soft and sweet. 

 

Even when they’re back in the same bed, Dean lays awake at night, thinking distinctly with the clarity of the Caribbean,  _ I love you I love you I love you.  _

**Author's Note:**

> [reallyelegantsharkfish](http://reallyelegantsharkfish.tumblr.com) on tumblr
> 
> _“You are in my blood. I cant help it. We can't be anywhere except together."_  
>  francesca lia block, weetzie bat


End file.
